


it'll come back to you

by colourexplosion



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, other things that I don't even know god I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourexplosion/pseuds/colourexplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry sees the picture of liam on the ledge of the apartment building and doesn't like it. </p><p>inspired by <a href="http://additionaldirections.tumblr.com/post/73124859645/wilkzyftw-would-this-guy-kindly-step-of-the-roof">this</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it'll come back to you

**Author's Note:**

> HI HELLO, this is my first 1D fic ever posted, and it is horrendously un-beta'd, unbritpicked, and was written in the early hours of the central timezone. sorry in advance for any mistakes, and this is all patently untrue, except for Liam being an idiot and standing on the ledge of a high-rise. the rest, though, is completely made up. please don't ever show this to anyone even remotely connected to the boys or I'd probably cry. 
> 
> enjoy!!! 
> 
> ps, I know the title is stupid but the only other one I could think of was "you're not batman, you twat" which seemed a bit rude.

The slap to his dick comes so unexpectedly that he really should’ve seen it coming. 

Harry's just arrived, back from his extended stay in LA, and really, Liam had been excited to see him, but, well, what a greeting. 

“ _Christ_.” Liam doubles over, pressing his hands-- gently, so so gently-- over his crotch and taking a deep, steadying breath. 

“Harry’s fine,” Harry says, voice a deep drawl that Liam most certainly did not miss, especially not when he can hear the smirk in it. He takes another deep breath and straightens. 

“That for anything in particular, or did you just miss feeling my dick that much?” Harry laughs, throws an arm around Liam’s shoulders and presses his lips to the side of Liam’s head. Liam tries very hard not to blush. 

He fails. 

“Bit of both, if I’m honest,” Harry says, pulling away only marginally. Liam sighs, and winds his arm around Harry’s waist. It’s been months since he’s spent any proper time with Harry. Not on a set, not for a performance, not at a party with people and music pulsing around them. Just-- alone, with Harry. Liam’s missed it. He leans his head against Harry’s for a moment and lets it fall, pressing his nose into Harry’s neck, inhaling. He missed that too. 

“What was it for, then?” His voice is a bit mumbled, and he willfully ignores the way Harry shivers when Liam’s lips brush against the delicate curve of his throat. It’s not like it was on purpose. Or maybe it was. It’s not as if Harry’s going to protest, really. They’ve always been touchy-feely. Liam can blame it on the distance. 

In lieu of answering, Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket and clicking around, finally opening a photo and holding it so Liam can see. It’s of him, the one his friend had taken the night of Zayn’s party when he’d felt particularly daring and stood on the ledge. About fifteen stories up. Not the smartest thing he’s ever done, but, hell, he was wasted, and it wasn’t windy or anything, and he’s fine. He’s _fine._

His arm tightens around Harry’s waist, and he lifts his head to look at Harry, whose mouth has gone all tight, and so have his eyes. He looks properly cross, and that’s so rare that he feels a kick of guilt in his stomach. He reaches out, puts his hand over the phone, pressing it down and away as he turns his head, nose brushing just under Harry’s jaw. 

“Haz,” he starts, but stops as Harry pushes him away, rough. 

“No,” he says, pointing his phone at him, mouth and eyes still pinched, and it’s-- Liam can’t really believe that he made Harry look like this. None of the other lads cared this much. 

Or maybe they were just better at hiding it. (Well, Louis hadn’t been. He’d just sent a quick _you’re a bloody idiot_ text, followed by _bet it was brilliant though, yeah?_ , so Liam knew he couldn’t have been _that_ mad about it. Zayn had only shaken his head, and Niall hadn’t said anything.)

“Hazza,” he starts again, but Harry shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to hear it, Liam,” Harry says, and his voice has gone all tight too, and a bit crackly, like when he sings for too many nights in a row without giving it a proper rest. Or when he talks to his mum or his sister after a long day, and Liam’s not sure how he knows that, but he supposes it’s nearly impossible that he wouldn’t, what with the close quarters and all. 

“I’m--”

“You could have died.” Liam stops, freezes, because-- well, he knows that. Knew that at the time, too, but only in that way that anyone knows anything when they’re drunk. Which is to say, they know, but don’t really pay attention to it and do it anyway because it’s a laugh. 

“I could die today,” Liam says, huffing out a breath. “I could’ve died when I was younger. I could walk outside and get hit by a car, Harry, that doesn’t mean--”

“It doesn’t mean you should go _looking for it_ ,” Harry says, interrupts, voice so low and so angry that Liam feels a bit of a chill go down his spine. Or maybe someone left a window open, or something, because Harry’s voice shouldn’t provoke that, right? 

There’s a long moment, and it stretches, silent and profound in some way, like it’s one of the most important moments of Liam’s life, but he’s never been good at words, so maybe he’s got that wrong. 

It breaks when he takes a step forward, hand outstretched for Harry. He’s cautious, like Harry’s a wounded animal, like he’ll run if Liam doesn’t do this correctly. 

He takes another step, and another and another until his hand’s on Harry’s waist again, drawing him in. 

“I’m not suicidal, Haz,” he says, and tries to be offended but he can’t, not really, not when Harry’s shoulders are nearly at his ears because he’s so tense. He only feels guilt. He looks up, catching his gaze. “You know that, right?” 

Harry huffs out a breath, the tension dissipating a bit, finally, and he brings a hand up, strokes Liam’s cheekbone with his knuckle, then his jaw. The guilt in Liam’s stomach is joined by another feeling, familiar, and one that Liam doesn’t care to take the time to examine. It crops up quite a bit when Harry’s around, and he hasn’t been around for so long that he’d almost forgotten. Almost. 

“‘Course I do, but,” Harry looks away, his hand falls from Liam’s face and Liam’s hand tightens in Harry’s shirt. 

“But?” Liam urges, his other hand going to Harry’s back, under the jacket he’s still wearing. He’d just arrived when the dickslap happened, wasting no time, apparently, and christ, Liam hasn’t seen him in so long and he’s always felt Harry’s absences more than anyone else, even Zayn, and he just-- He can’t believe they’re not laughing right now, or cuddling on the couch or something. They’re _fighting._ Actually fighting. It’s all very wrong. 

“But you scared me,” Harry says, and there’s no emotion in his tone. He’s saying it like it’s a fact. The sky is blue. Birds fly. Harry was scared when Liam got on a dangerously high ledge whilst pissed out of his mind. It feels significant, that. 

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, carefully pressing his lips just below Harry’s jaw, watching his eyes close. 

“Can you tell me why?” Harry’s eyes are still closed and Liam doesn’t think that’s fair. How’s he suppose to know what Harry’s thinking, now? He reaches up, tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck.

“Why I’m sorry, or why I did it in the first place?” 

“Both,” Harry says, head leaning into Liam’s touch. “But mostly the second.” 

Liam makes a thoughtful noise and tugs Harry forward, toward the couch so they can sit. He’s tired of standing. He doesn’t want to have this conversation standing up. His legs hit the edge of a cushion and he plops down, taking Harry with him. Harry, who automatically leans over, pushing Liam over so they’re actually spooning a bit. Liam doesn’t mind. His hand’s still in Harry’s hair, working through the curls gently, short fingernails scraping at the scalp when he feels like it. 

“I suppose,” Liam says with a deep breath, “I haven’t really got a good explanation.” Harry’s eyes open, and so does his mouth, but Liam cuts him off. “No, just-- listen, all right? I mean, it was Zayn’s party, y’know, his twenty-first, and I’d had a bit to drink, and I just...thought it might be fun.” 

Harry looks at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. 

“You do know you’re not actually Batman, right?” 

It startles a laugh out of Liam, fingers tightening briefly in Harry’s curls. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I do, thanks.” 

Harry looks away then, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and focuses on Liam’s chest, where his hand is. He strokes his thumb up and down, just in the middle of Liam’s sternum, and he can’t really feel it through his t-shirt, but the weight of Harry next to him and his hand on his chest is grounding, comforting. He feels settled for the first time in a long time. 

“And why are you sorry?” Harry’s voice is soft, searching, and for a minute Liam forgets he’s almost twenty. Doesn’t seem like that. Not at all. He seems much younger, when he speaks like that. 

“Because it was stupid,” Liam answers, “Because you’re right, I could’ve died, and I don’t-- I’m not like that, y’know? Not reckless.” 

“Yeah,” Harry says, tilting his head up to look at him, chin digging into Liam’s shoulder. Liam meets his gaze, keeps his hold on the back of Harry’s head loose but secure, if that makes any sense. Probably not. Nothing really makes sense at the moment, for Liam. 

“And because I scared you,” he says, and he feels Harry inhale and the breath catches, like he’s holding it. “Didn’t mean to do that, Hazza.” 

“S’alright,” Harry says, but he’s moving, up and away, and Liam doesn’t like that, he just wants him to stay, for once, instead of jetting off around the bloody world and hanging out with famous people for months at a time and not being in London, within Liam’s reach. 

His hand tightens on the back of Harry’s neck, holding him in place as Liam leans up. 

“Let me make it up to you anyway,” he says, mumbles, and then presses his mouth to Harry’s. 

For once in his life, he’s not really sure what to expect. They’ve all snogged a bit, of course. It’s sort of unavoidable when you’re drunk on a tour bus or drunk and sharing a hotel room, or just bored in the studio. You get lonely, and there’s four other people around, and it’s not-- Liam wouldn’t like, recommend it to anyone, but it works for them. Their group. Because it’s not as if anyone wants a relationship out of it or anything. 

But this, Liam can tell is already more than a drunken snog in Antwerp, riding high off endorphins and champagne. No, this is Liam initiating, trying to comfort, trying to tell Harry something that he’s not sure of himself. 

So he’s a bit surprised when Harry kisses back. When he makes a noise against Liam’s mouth and then licks into it, Liam’s lips part to let him in-- because in what world could he say no to Harry, really-- and his fingers tangle in curls again while his other hand slides around Harry’s waist, down his ridiculous torso to palm at his arse and he swallows the noise that Harry makes because of it. 

“Fuck--” Harry pulls away to inhale a breath, and Liam’s mouth chases him. Harry leans away properly then, and Liam thinks that’s it, that he’s probably just ruined things forever and he might as well have jumped off that ledge because the band will hate him--

But then Harry’s only pulling off his jacket and rolling over, fitting himself between Liam’s thighs and grinding down, making Liam arch off the cushions. 

“Shit,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and Harry chuckles, a low sound that sends a kick of arousal straight to his dick. He feels a hand-- a large, warm hand-- grip his hip and then slide up, under his shirt. “Haz,” he says, practically whining, and Harry smiles down at him, all teeth.

“Better, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just dips his head, fitting it into Liam’s neck to press his mouth there, open and hot and with a hint of teeth that makes Liam shudder, grind his hips into the ones pressing his down. 

“Fuck, c’mere,” Liam says, hauling Harry up again to kiss him, a hand on his cheek holding him in place as he sucks Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth. It’s not graceful, but nothing with them ever is. It’s sloppy, and sort of messy and slightly painful, but any time Liam’s teeth connect with Harry’s skin, he moans, and that’s enough incentive for Liam to tug Harry’s shirt off and suck a mark, dark and obvious, right below one of the sparrows. Harry groans above him, staying still as he works, and that’s something Liam will have to explore another time (if there is another time, and god, he hopes there will be) but right now he’s focused on the way Harry’s snuck a hand down to cup him through his joggers. 

“Want to suck you,” Harry’s lips are pressed against his ear, breath hot and his hand not enough pressure on Liam’s cock. “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” Liam breathes, nodding. “Yeah, please, fuck, Haz. _Please._ ” He’s babbling a bit, and begging, but Harry’s grinning at him and pushing him up the sofa so he’s rested against the arm of the couch and kissing down his stomach where he’s rucked Liam’s shirt up. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Liam’s pants and joggers and tugs, pulling them down in a smooth motion, watching-- almost greedily, Liam would say, if he could form any sort of coherent thought-- as Liam’s cock slaps up, ridiculous and obscene, against his stomach. 

Harry wastes no time in grabbing it around the base and giving it a long pull, thumb flicking over the head. Liam’s hips jerk into his hand, but Harry rests an arm over them, looking up at Liam. 

“Need you to stay still, yeah?” There’s something odd about his expression, Liam thinks. Like he’s sorry about the fact that Liam can’t fuck his mouth. “Haven’t done this in awhile.” 

Liam only nods, croaks out an “of course” that ends on a sharp intake of breath as Harry takes him into his mouth and Liam loses himself in wet heat and Harry’s tongue working just under the head. 

It doesn’t take long. He should be embarrassed, really, but it’s not as if a blowjob from Harry Styles is on the regular menu for Liam, and he was worked up before, from all the kissing, and just-- whatever. It doesn’t take long before he’s tugging on Harry’s hair, trying to warn him, but Harry doesn’t pull off, just takes it and swallows and that’s-- No one’s ever done that for Liam and he has to admit, it’s much hotter than he thought it’d be. 

He slumps back against the armrest when Harry presses a kiss to his hip, then another below his navel, one in the middle of his chest, on his collarbone and finally on his mouth. (Which, should be grosser than it is, he thinks mildly, but is also to boneless to really care.) 

“What can I do,” Liam asks, hand moving to Harry’s waistband, fiddling with the button, sinking a hand in and trying not to groan as Harry’s hips move into his fist. 

“Just that,” Harry says, resting his forehead against Liam’s temple, breath hot across his cheek. “That’s good. Perfect, even.” 

Liam works him off quickly, turning his head to catch Harry’s mouth in a kiss when he comes, hot and sticky, over Liam’s hand and stomach. And sofa. That’ll be hard to clean, he’s sure. (Ha, _hard._ ) He’ll give his housekeeper a bonus, or something. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, tipping sideways to fit in the tiny space between Liam and the back of the sofa. “For--” he makes a vague hand gesture to the mess, and Liam laughs. 

“It’s fine,” Liam says, tempted to wipe the mess in Harry’s hair, just so they’ll have a reason to take a shower. He settles for wiping it across the arse of Harry’s jeans, drawing a sort of perturbed noise from his throat. 

“S’the only pair of clean ones I’ve got,” Harry whines, and Liam laughs. 

“Good thing I’ve got a washing machine,” Liam says. 

“It’s a good thing I like to walk around naked,” Harry counters, and really, Liam can’t find it in himself to disagree.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're interested in being a beta for some longer fics, drop a line here or on my [tumblr](http://additionaldirections.tumblr.com). thanks!


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